


Eyes

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alive Hale Family, Alive Talia Hale, Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha Talia Hale, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF John, BAMF Stiles, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Eventual Happy Ending, Everyone is Part of the Pack, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hale Family Feels, Hurt Derek, Hurt Derek Hale, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Pack Feels, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Sick Stiles Stilinski, Spark Claudia Stilinski, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles-centric, Stilinski Family Feels, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-11-18 22:55:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11300547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Derek and Stiles discover their lingering love for one another when Stiles comes home from Quantico during the Christmas holidays. Stiles' suspicion that he has become a Spark, become apparent when he talks to Derek about the things that happened to him.Enjoying their newfound relationship briefly, Derek and Stiles don’t realize that all is about to fall apart when a woman from the past returns and threatens them both. To Stiles' despair, she leaves Derek blind for life as an act of revenge. When Stiles finds a way to restore Derek's eyesight, he does so without thinking about the consequences and what it might do to him. His actions not only endangers his own life, but that of everyone else around him, up until a point that the entire Pack might be in grave danger if Stiles doesn't learn to control his Spark.This is my first story where Stiles actually possesses magic abilities. What these are, you’ll find out. It’s also my first complete AU-story, in a universe where the Hale-pack (including Talia, Laura and their family are still alive and where the fire never happened). They are living happily in the Hale-house in the middle of the preserve.And it's my first real Sterek-story too. :)





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> In this story, Derek has created his own pack including Isaac, Erica and Boyd and has joined forces with Stiles, Scott, Lydia and Allison. He has bitten the three out of sympathy and has offered them a home, whereas Stiles and Scott have become good friends. It will all become clear how this will work out in the story. Just imagine that everything that happened, didn’t happen the way it did on television. Just go with me on this one. The story will focus on the blooming relationship between Derek and Stiles, the friendship between the pack members and of course has a lot of family-feels and pack-feels to it. And last but not least, Stiles hurt and a focus on the Spark-storyline that was abandoned during the series.

"Watch out!"

A voice resounded hard through the crowded streets of Beacon Hills, startling those walking on the curb in its town center. The next moment, the twenty-year old man felt a pair of strong hands around his waist. His body was yanked backwards. A car passed them by so quickly and violently, he could feel it knock the wind right out of him.

He wound up on the ground, the other man hovering over him, one strong hand behind his skull to prevent him from smashing it against the curb. After that, for one long moment, he knew nothing.

When he came to, he was aware of the fact he was still lying on the pavement and that the other man was still holding him. His strong arms were still lingering around him, his face close to him and his eyes very worried. He hadn’t even realized he had blacked out for one moment, until he felt the same strong hands pull him up and settle him down.

The twentysomething found the strength to lean against the man quietly, sitting on the side of the curb, wondering what the hell just happened. He shivered in shock, yet at the same time, it felt like the man next to him was bound to save his life over and over again. A leather coat was placed over his shaking form, hands were caressing his as they tried to shake him back to reality.

"Stiles, are you okay?"

The older man’s worried face and voice were the first thing Stiles became aware of once the shock wore off. He looked around him, staring at the people around them, eyeing them surprised.

“Do you want me to call an ambulance?” a woman asked.

“I’m fine,” Stiles croaked, but he didn’t feel like it at all. A sharp pain protruded the back of his head, while a blinding, searing panic attack rushed through him, threatening to take over.

Derek seemed to realize instantly, keeping him against him. Stiles reeled in the man’s warmth, happy that he wasn’t alone. Shivering from the winter’s cold, Stiles realized all too well that Derek had just saved his life by yanking him backwards when the car swerved past them. A werewolf’s strength and their excellent hearing came in handy more than once, as just proven.

“Thanks, Derek,” he croaked again.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Derek asked, his voice a mixture of concern and fright. “That goddamn driver nearly killed you. What the hell was he thinking?”

“Actually, it wasn’t the driver who caused this,” someone to their right pointed out, rightfully so. “Your friend here just crossed the street without even looking.”

Derek’s dark eyebrow lifted as he gazed at Stiles, who brushed off his clothes and shrugged, as if confirming this was the case without using the words. The twenty-year-old college student sighed, straightened his shoulders and suddenly looked a lot more tired than he had done minutes ago. The bags under his eyes proved his distress, just as the twitching of his fingers. The werewolf realized immediately he had missed out on something.

“What’s going on, Stiles?” he asked, gazing at his friend with new eyes, seeing something he didn’t like.

Stiles had already been very quiet when he arrived home, but Derek had thought this had to do with his fatigue. After all, he was in his third year at Quantico now, which couldn’t be easy. He was combining his studies with internships, trying to find out what he liked and where he would be okay. Sheriff Stilinski had assured them all he was heading towards a brilliant career; everyone who knew Stiles wasn’t surprised at all.

There was more though. Derek felt uneasy lately, with something tugging at the edge of his mind. Something was changing. Something he couldn’t really place. It was the first time he had felt off like this, as if he needed to head out to Quantico and be with Stiles, no matter the consequence to his pack. The others had felt it too; especially his mom had commented that Derek’s wolf was off.

Lately, Stiles hadn’t replied to his messages all that frequently anymore. In fact, it had been weeks since they properly talked. Stiles always brushed him off with a message that he was too busy, too tired, too much work, had too much studying to do. There was always an excuse and Derek had ignored the signs, because he had been trying to calm down his wolf while counting down to the moment he would see Stiles again. No matter what, Stiles would be coming home soon to be with his dad.

The werewolf had been quite happy when the Christmas holidays came by, because the Hale house was never the same without Stiles in it. The werewolves, except for Scott, who was off to college too, may have still been there during the year and lived their happy lives, but without Lydia, Allison and Stiles, who they considered their resident humans, it just didn’t feel the same.

Derek was damned to admit it, but he had grown quite fond of Stiles as soon as the then-sixteen-year old became part of the pack. During the years, Stiles had become a household name, amusing them all with his witty jokes, bright remarks and research and his effortless help in researching the Nemeton and its beacon that attracted evilness. After all these years, Stiles, Scott and Allison still felt guilty that they had sacrificed themselves to save their parents, even though it wasn’t their fault at all.

After the arrival of a dark Druid in Beacon Hills, causing a lot of trouble for all of them, including a sacrifice attempt on Stiles’ dad, Melissa and Chris Argent, the pack had discovered a lot more evilness was out there, which scared them all.

Before, their packs had been divided, due to the fact Allison’s grandfather Gerard came to Beacon Hills and messed them all up emotionally. The man was an evil bastard who had tried to win over Scott in any way possible, to make sure he became a werewolf too. Fortunately, his plan didn’t succeed and the man vanished after the bite didn’t take.

After Gerard had kidnapped Stiles and beaten him up, Derek had become quite possessive over the human vowed together with Scott that this would never happen again. It was around that time that Derek knew they had to join forces, but it didn’t stop the rise of the Dark Druid, who was the cause of much of trouble at Beacon Hills. Up until today, they still felt the downside of those events. Every week, new evil popped up its ugly head, never giving the pack peace of mind.

Even though he missed Stiles like hell, Derek knew that by going to Quantico, he at least would be safe. There was no evil, nothing lurking around the corner, like it was here. Here, Stiles would always be part of the pack and therefore be in danger.

Derek sighed, trying to stop himself from pulling Derek into his arms and hugging the life out of him. Even when he nearly died, Stiles would not allow the werewolf to do so, Derek knew. He might have liked Stiles for ages; he simply didn’t know that the human felt the same way.

He vowed to find out during these holidays.

Over the past two years, Stiles had proven he was a very good researcher and would become an excellent FBI-agent, by showing his peers and supervisors he was good in everything he did. They all wanted him on their teams and in return he just smiled and thought to himself he already had one. There was no doubt in his mind he would return to Beacon Hills and live there, near or amongst his pack. This is where he belonged.

Throughout the years, Stiles had become used to his supernatural life. He wasn’t afraid of it all, just like he never thought about living a life elsewhere. Why would he, when everyone he knew and loved was right there?

The fact that the teenager had lived in two houses for years, dashing between his father’s home and the Hale compound quite frequently, had said enough about his constant presence in everyone’s lives. He had become a part of the furniture, part of the family, part of them all. They needed him, just like he needed them.

When Stiles announced he had been signed up for the FBI’s prestigious pre-program at Quantico, Derek hadn’t stopped him. He knew that life wouldn’t be the same again without the pack together, but that’s the way it was. He wouldn’t stop Stiles if his life depended on it. It was time that the kid lived a normal life outside of Beacon Hills too, because he knew that one day Stiles would come back forever.

It warmed the werewolf that Stiles had first come back to the Hale house before even seeing anyone else, having persuaded his dad to drop him off so he could say hi to the others as quickly as possible. His dad had just shrugged and smiled that he had to get home on his own account.

Talia had warmly embraced Stiles and then took off to the kitchen to prepare his favorite dishes, calling out of her shoulder that she would call Noah and get him over too, after which Stiles smiled and said his dad already knew. When it came to food, Noah had the best nose in the world.

Stiles and his father had been part of the Hale-family for quite some time, ever since Stiles had told his dad the tale about Derek and Talia and the Hale House and how they had become friends. By then, Noah was well aware of the supernatural beings in Beacon hills, after the Dark Druid tried to kill them.

Noah had stilled at first, telling his son then that Claudia had been friends with Talia and had helped him quite a bit during her illness. He had no idea that the woman was a werewolf, but now that he did, it all seemed to make sense to him. He had always wondered how a family could be so close and so protective over one another. He liked Talia quite a bit, even if they had lost contact over the years.

“You may or may not remember, Stiles, but you actually spent a lot of time at the Hale House during your mom’s stays at the hospital,” dad had told him, getting memories back that Stiles had forgotten a long time ago. “The Hales are quite okay. Isn’t it odd that our families would reconnect like that? You got along with them all very well back then and you seemed to do the same now.”

“I like them,” Stiles had said, “they’re nice; a good family. I like them a lot.”

“All of them? Or just one particular person?” his father had asked, smiling briefly when Stiles turned scarlet red. “It’s okay, kid, I know you like guys. You don’t have to hide.”

“I like both, actually,” Stiles had confessed, “but it’s true that there’s one particular guy that I really, really like.”

“By the look on his face, he seems to like you too,” the sheriff had commented, allowing Stiles to turn red a second time. He didn’t believe Derek like him in the same way. Or, maybe he just wasn’t ready for it.

After Stiles told his dad everything, the Hales and the Stilinski’s had become friends quite fast, and Noah often came to the Hale House with Stiles, or without him, during Stiles’ absence. Even when he became an item with Nathalie, Lydia’s mom, he kept on going there. Nathalie, who was aware that her daughter was a banshee, just like her mother had been, was then invited in the Hale House too, alongside like Melissa and Chris Argent, who had become a couple at one point in time. It went smoothly, once everything about the supernatural was cleared out for all of them and they were aware that they all knew about it.

The Hale House was constantly packed with people, which made it a buzzing home where people felt at ease and loved each other. It was home to Stiles, even more so than his own house, where he was often alone because of his dad’s job. It felt normal then that he went over quite some time.

“Stiles. Earth to Stiles. You’re fading out again, kid,” Derek spoke troubled, his hands roaming Stile’s head, cursing under his breath when he felt a cut between his hairline between his sensitive fingertips. “You still managed to hit your head, I’m afraid. I’ll have to take you to the hospital.”

“No, I’m fine,” Stiles said, returning to the present quickly.

The FBI-student was still trembling, shaking underneath Derek’s jacket. Why in the world had he crossed the street so unexpectedly, ignoring the traffic all around him, knowing that one wrong step could kill him? He didn’t know. He had been absentminded, thinking about Beacon Hills and how it had still stayed the same during his absence.

He had asked Derek to go for a walk, wanting to escape the house for a short while so he could talk to the five-year-older man alone, wanting to talk to him about a lot of things on his mind, not knowing where to begin. They had climbed into Stiles’ jeep and drove into town. All that time, Derek hadn’t said anything.

A lot had become clear to Stiles when he was away at Quantico: going from the people he loved, to what he had discovered about himself in the process. He hadn’t told Derek yet about this, trying to find a way to address the subject, deciding the werewolf would be the first to know the full story.

Derek was an Alpha with his own pack, having become one when he asked Talia permission to create his own after he killed a rogue alpha and inherited the status from him. He had already been an Alpha when he came home after the fight, so Talia had two choices: to drive her son away, or to accept him for his new status.

Talia, who had known her son was ready for the responsibility, had easily given her permission and then asked him to stay at the Hale house, saying it was large enough for two packs and they could have each other’s backs. Since they were all family, there wasn’t a single issue between them all.

Talia still had her small pack with her brother Peter and her daughters Laura and Cora. Peter’s mate had died two years ago at the hands of a strayed Omega, while Talia’s husband had been killed by another Alpha, years ago. They were happy, despite their losses and looked out for each other.

Shortly after that, Derek had bitten Boyd, Erica and Isaac, picking them out because they needed help and were loyal and kind to each other. Derek had a sixth sense for characters and he knew they would be perfect for him. Jackson was also a part of the pack after his turn into a werewolf, but he lived in London with his parents and only rarely came back these days. The door however, was always open to him.

There was no doubt in Talia’s mind that her son was a strong and good Alpha, who learned how to deal with his pack, mostly thanks to Stiles, who had unwittingly become his right hand. And perhaps also his mate. It took Talia one gaze at the two to know that they were meant to end up together, even with Stiles far away and their lives currently no longer entwined. Everyone knew about it, and it became more obvious whenever Stiles came home.

Derek’s wolf reacted happily at the news that Stiles would be home for three weeks. He had planned to make the best out of every second of the day, just as he had been determined to tell Stiles at long last that he loved him and would wait for him forever. That he was proud of Stiles and wanted him to be okay.

Stiles had no idea yet of Derek’s plans, not even realizing that Derek had planned in the car driving downtown to tell him the truth about his feelings. Derek didn’t realize either that Stiles was going to tell him the exact same thing: How his life felt incomplete without Derek in it and how he was planning on giving up his studies because he couldn’t bear to live another day without Derek in it.

They had gotten out of the jeep to walk on Main Street, heading for a special place where Stiles was going to talk to Derek. That’s when he took that step and nearly got himself killed.

“Stiles, I need to get you to the hospital to check you out,” Derek repeated.

Stiles smiled faintly, feeling Derek’s strong touch still lingering on his body. He had been lucky to make it out of this alive, that he knew. The shock was still on him, but slowly fading.

"Stupid of me," Stiles muttered, rubbing his hands over his pants as if he had fallen on them and hurt himself. "Should have been more careful.”

Derek grinned nervously. "That's what you get when you want to live a healthy life and don’t take the car for once. We're not used to walking in the streets of Beacon Hills anymore."

Stiles stuck out his tongue and laughed as he spoke. “Speak for yourself, Hale. I was thinking about something, that’s all.”

“Oh? And what was that?”

Stiles pointed at the small diner across the street. “I was thinking I should buy you a hot chocolate and your vanilla cake.”

Derek couldn't help but laugh and put his arm around Stiles in a protective way, hoping Stiles wouldn’t get startled by it. He felt ridiculously happy now Stiles was back, even with the shock he just went through.

Stiles didn’t pull back. In fact, he seemed to caress to the embrace, humming happily as he moved closer to Derek. In an impulse gesture of friendship and care, Derek kept his hand in Stiles’ as he crossed the street with him.

Stiles didn’t flinch at all. In fact, he folded his fingers over Derek, as if he suddenly realized something. Then, again impulsively, he turned towards Derek and kissed him gently on the lips, doing it before he could change his mind.

Derek stared at the younger man in pure shock before returning the kiss, tightening his grip around Stiles, who in return gripped him tighter too.

“Oh god,” Derek whispered, letting go at long last, albeit reluctantly. “That was …”

“… the best,” Stiles hummed slightly, still holding onto Derek as their breaths made small circles in the air. “And the reason why I wanted to talk to you.”

“That talk is definitely needed,” Derek reacted, still carrying that grin on his face he just couldn’t shake off. Stiles, …”

“I know,” the younger man said, stopping him. “I know, because I felt it too.”

“You did?”

“The longing to come home to you was so strong, I actually felt physically sick by it,” Stiles confessed. “I’ve not been doing okay lately. In fact, I was quite ill for a while.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” the werewolf asked shocked.

“Because I didn’t know if you felt the same. I felt stupid saying this to you when you might not even want me.”

“I did feel the same,” Derek spoke in all earnest, “I just didn’t want to hold it against you and stop you from doing what you love. I don’t want you to feel forced by the fact that you are, in fact, my tether. I’ve loved you for years, Stiles, ever since the day you saved my arm and life with your stubbornness. Trust me, it was difficult to ignore it, when everything in me screamed to hold onto you.”

Stiles smiled, seeing all in Derek’s eyes he needed to see. “I eh … Derek, I don’t know how to say this, but there’s more going on. I need to talk to you about this, because I don’t know what to do with myself right now.”

“What do you mean?” the werewolf asked.

“I think I’m actually not just a normal person anymore,” Stiles confessed. “In fact, now that I’m with you, I’m pretty sure I’m not. Things have changed and I …”

Derek stared at him, already knowing what he was about to say. “Your spark awoke, didn’t it?”

Stiles held his breath, stopping in his tracks. “How did you …?”

“Your mother had it too, Stiles,” Derek said. “Don’t you remember? You might have been young, but I remember it all. I saw what she could do and it was pretty amazing. Before she became so sick, she was one of the most powerful women in the world. Then, when she became ill, they had to cast a spell to make sure she couldn’t harm people by accident, like she once did you.”

“What?” Stiles stared at the wolf in shock. “What are you talking about? She didn’t harm me at all.”

Derek took a deep breath and opened the diner door. “I think we need to have that long overdue talk right now.”

With his hand in the small of Stiles’ back, he lead him inside and to the back of the diner, where they sunk into a secluded seat. Derek’s eyes wouldn’t let go of Stiles, who became troubled, yet stared at him at the same time with an awe in his eyes he hadn’t seen before. Stiles loved him. He knew it. Stiles knew it. Derek reached forward and grasped his hand, kissing the knuckles. Stiles smiled radiantly.

Neither of them were aware of the woman with the cane, standing across the street. Behind the sunglasses she seemed to be watching them. But as she turned, her dead eyes stared into nothingness. Her cane was the only thing that kept her from tripping over the obstacles on the sidewalk.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek have a long overdue heart to heart, while a stranger watches them from across the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the comments and many kudos!   
> I was very nervous about posting the first chapter, as I haven't done a story around the Sterek-topic so extensively yet, even though I am convinced that they would be a good match.  
> Thanks so much again for supporting this. If you like "Eyes" and you would like to leave a comment, please do so. I'd appreciate that very much!   
> All the chapters will be relatively long and I'll try to post at least every 2 days. The story is nearly finished, so I know how it's going to end :-).
> 
> thanks again!

**Chapter Two**

The woman had been observing them for a very long time now, ever since the younger man had first come to her attention. Oh, she could still remember the exact moment when she first saw him, before she lost her eyesight. She had been an attractive young woman then, read y to attack the world and come out the winner. She had the world at her feet, was conquering it.

And then his father's car had ended it all, leaving her scarred and handicapped for life. And the young man, the boy even, that would grow up to become a future FBI agent, had seen it all.

Now she didn't need her eyes anymore to see him or the twenty-something man he was with. The boy’s face was encrypted in her mind's eye, and in the pupils, that could not react to the light of day anymore. He was the one she had focused on when she knew she had the ability to do something about her blindness. He would pay the price for his father's carelessness and eagerness to put the accident behind him. His father would suffer, like hers had.

She had been following him and watching him for the better part of a year now, traveling to Quantico when he was there, observing him as he made new friends and learned how to become an FBI-agent. She had noticed the Spark in him, even though she couldn’t really name it. There was something about him, in his aura, that she could see beneath the darkness. She had learned how to see the world with new eyes.

She knew more about him than the ones that were close to him. She knew he had grown up quite an attractive young man, with no interest whatsoever in others his age. His heart had already been sold to the man he was with right now. He dedicated every moment of his time to his future career when he was at Quantico. Here however, he was in love with the man who also possessed a special aura. The man she knew was no ordinary person.

For a year now, she had taught herself to be patient, to prepare for what she was about to do. She would get what she wanted, reaching and grabbing it without hesitation to end the suffering in her life.

He had been so young when his father hit her with his car, leaving her blind for life. She could still remember the black Chrysler the sheriff had driven way too fast, and the last thing she had seen before her eyesight was taken away from her, was the boy's young, scared face as the car crashed into her with a sickening thud. She had heard him scream, even with the metal of the car between them. Then her world turned black.

She had woken up in the hospital and it was all over. Her career, her life, her future. It was gone because his father had not taken his responsibilities.

She had never forgotten that face. It was the first thing she saw when she woke up in the hospital and it was the last thing she saw before she went to bed every night. Oh, how she wanted to touch that face and to feel the curves in it, and the curves on his face that had grown on him during the years.

She had found out he was twelve years old at the time of the accident, such a young man still. Now he was twenty and a man with a past, present and future. She would be a major part of that future. He would become her revenge on life and its necessities. But first, she would make him suffer like she had suffered. She would take the eyes of the man he loved the most, using just that touch of magic that had grown on her during the years.

She smiled when she realized he possessed the same kind of magic, but didn’t even know it yet. That’s what she saw in his aura. The aura she would take, alongside everything he held dearly.

The woman smiled as she watched the two men inside the diner, stuffed in the back as if they were fugitives, hiding from the world. She was patient, ready to take what she wanted and ready to make him suffer for his dad’s wrongdoings.

After all, he had known that his father was drunk that night and he hadn’t done anything about it. It didn’t matter he was only a kid back then. It didn’t matter that he screamed at his dad to call for help. It didn’t matter that he suffered too.

Her eyes were still gone and she was ready to get new ones.

***

Stiles stared at Derek’s hand lingering over his, smiling when he realized that the older man hadn’t let go of him since they walked into the deli and slipped down the seats way in the back.

After a brief gaze at the menu, Derek ordered exactly what Stiles had said before: A hot chocolate milk with whipped cream and a vanilla cake, the deli’s specialty. Stiles ordered a cup of tea, to Derek’s big surprise.

“What?” the young man snorted, “I need to keep my wits, you know? No caffeine and such. Green tea is supposed to be good for you.”

“It is, I’m just surprised that you actually listen to your body,” Derek snorted, remembering the times where Stiles would stuff ten curly fries at the same time in his mouth without choking on them.

“Yeah well, these days they keep running us down, so I decided that daily runs, some physical training and healthy food are quite necessary,” Stiles smiled, thanking the waitress who brought them their order quite fast.

“So, you’re planning on reinstalling your dad’s forgotten diet then?” Derek snorted. “You do realize that he’s been a daily visitor of every fast food place in town? He’s notorious for it.”

“Yeah, well, as long as he doesn’t live together with Nathalie, there’s nothing much I can do about it,” Stiles grimaced, thinking of the few extra pounds his dad had put on. The Christmas holidays weren’t going to help that issue much either.

“Mom asked if you would like to join us for Christmas,” Derek said. “She’s a good cook and she only uses biological stuff. It won’t be that bad then.”

“That would be great,” Stiles enthused, already looking forward to another year at the Hales, like they had done over the past three years. With Melissa, Scott and Alison and Melissa and Chris joining them, the family felt complete. Of course, Nathalie would bring Lydia, who might even bring back Jackson, who was apparently back in her good books these days, so it could become a reunion of everyone. And Erica and Boyd would be there with their baby, and Laura and Isaac might finally get it together, and Cora might bring that one kid she really loved and Peter would be there and …

“Stiles. Stiles! You’re fading out again.”

“Oh.” Stiles looked up surprised, realizing his thoughts had gone off rambling again. “Sorry, just thinking about the Christmas party at your place.”

“Speaking of which,” Derek smiled softly, knowing all too well that his entire pack was anticipating his next move. “I would like … I mean, would you like to come to the party as my guest?”

“I’m already your guest,” Stiles spoke confused.

“Not like that,” Derek smiled again. “I mean, as *my* guest.”

“Oh.” Stiles’ mouth opened and closed again. “Would that be okay? I mean, your mom will be surprised, no? And the others will be asking questions and my dad might be …”

“Stiles. Calm down. They already know.”

“Oh. I … wait, what?”

“My mother is the one urging me to have a talk with you for ages,” Derek said, staring at their entwined fingers. “She knows how restless my wolf has been. She knows that I needed to talk to you urgently. She saw this coming for ages.”

“She did?” Stiles asked surprised.

“And I spoke to your dad earlier. I went to have a talk with him before you came home, and he said that you had planned on having a chat with me too, so that today would be the right time to get it all out in the open. Your dad knows how I feel about you. I’m guessing he knew how you felt about me too.”

“Dad is the one who told me I was sick because of you,” Stiles blurted out. “Oh god, I didn’t mean it like that, Derek. I mean …”

“I know what you meant,” Derek said quietly, wrapping his fingers even tighter around Stiles’, all sense of food and drinks forgotten. We are bonded, Stiles. We’re mates, if you would like to name it that. We’re bound for life.”

“Are we?” Stiles asked, surprised Derek would say it like that.

“That’s why you felt off. We were too far apart.”

Stiles swallowed away the lump down his throat as he remembered what he was going to talk to Derek about. He knew that the werewolf wouldn’t agree, that he would try to stop him, but his decision had been made. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Derek stopped him.

“That’s why, when you’re going back to Quantico, I’m going with you.”

“What?” Stiles spluttered, nearly choking on his own spit. “You’re … you’re coming with me?”

“I am,” Derek spoke seriously. “Stiles, you are so damned good at what you do that I can’t ask you to stay here. It’s only two more years and then you can do whatever you want. If you want me … if you’ll have me as your partner, I would like to go with you and be with you, no matter where.”

“But the pack, Derek … You can’t just leave them, or your territory.”

“I’ve talked about it with mom and she’s willing to take the others into the Hale pack,” Derek reacted determinedly. “All has been said and done, Stiles. My life revolves around you and only you. You’re the only person in the world that can make me this happy. Every single inch of me tells me so. I’m calm when you’re around; I’m peaceful with you near me. Without you, I go stir crazy.”

“I …” Stiles stopped and looked up, deciding to say what he had been wanting to say for quite a while now. “Derek, I had planned on quitting the FBI and moving back here to become a deputy. I couldn’t face life at Quantico without you in it anymore. I was lost without you; god, I’ve messed up things, Derek, just because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Derek held his breath, waiting for Stiles to say the words he had ached for since years. “Derek, I love you. I’ve loved you since before the pool. I know that; in fact, I’ve known it for quite some time.”

Derek smiled, radiating where he sat, not believing what he was hearing, but knowing it wasn’t a dream. “Stiles, I love you more than anyone or anything in the world. I would die to protect you. I can’t be without you. If you’ll have me.”

“I would be honored,” Stiles spoke quietly, feeling tears stream down his face.

Derek moved forward and cupped Stiles’ face, kissing him gently on the lips. It was the second kiss they shared, after Stiles’ move half an hour ago. This one held promises, was hungry, yet gentle. It was perfect.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek finally realize how much they care about each other. Confessing their love for one another, seems natural. This is a chapter about setting their relationship and finding out what is going on with Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for following, kudos and commenting on this story!

**Chapter Three**

Stiles walked out of the deli, still hand in hand with Derek, taking in the winter’s sun that seemed to brighten his face. He couldn’t help grin like a fool, relishing what had just taken place. Over the past three weeks he had fought to find his courage to talk to Derek and explain to him how he felt about him, realizing that, if he didn’t say it today, it would never happen.

Despite his loud mouth and hyper activeness, Stiles by nature introvert and had difficulty expressing his feelings towards others. Even his dad, the man he loved the most in the world, had trouble getting through to his son at times, knowing Stiles couldn’t really express his emotions when it came down to it.

At Quantico, the weekly visit with his assigned counsellor, often ended with Stiles barely saying a word. The FBI knew about Beacon Hills’ odd track record of encountering things that were out of the ordinary, which fascinated the others in his year. Even though Stiles had made some good friends, he never really talked about his past and youth, knowing he had to watch every single word he said.

Now, it only seemed to get worse. Now that his Spark had woken up, as Derek put it, Stiles felt the odd one out even more. He was heading for a life full of secrets, he knew, because if Deaton was right about this, he would have to keep this a secret for as long as he could.

Deaton. Stiles had called him about two weeks ago to tell him about the strange things he experienced. The vivid dreams about his friends; the awakenings of certain abilities that he couldn’t control when he was nervous or upset; his mind that went all over the place and seemed to fight off the Adderall now; the way he saw people’s auras and experienced their emotions. Stiles had always been empathic towards others, sensing distress before others did, seeing things in their eyes they didn’t even know they had. The darkness and sadness of certain people were hard for him to carry and Stiles had to learn how to keep a distance between them and him.

Deaton had sounded genuinely concerned about Stiles when he heard what the young man had gone through in the past weeks and advised him to follow certain rules until they could meet face to face.

“I knew you had the Spark, as you already know,” Deaton had replied, “but I thought it would truly awaken much later and even then wouldn’t be so visible, as you haven’t shown any other signs of it since that night outside the Club. Fascinating that you would experience it now. Did anything change in your surroundings? Something that I need to know?”

“I’ve been feeling sick for a few days now,” Stiles had admitted. “I’ve been off and on for some time, but the past days it’s been worse.”

“Sick, how?”

“I don’t know, like a bout of flu that won’t push through; like I’m going through the motions of a lot of things happening at the same time; like …”

“Like your homesick?”

Stiles had held his breath there and then. “How did you know?” he had asked.

“You’re in love with Derek, aren’t you?” Deaton had commented.

Again silence, followed by a nervous giggle from Stiles, returning to the awkward teenager he had been a long time ago. He had grown into his skin at Quantico, but the insecure kid he used to be, the one that had felt helpless and hopeless at times, was still there.

“Stiles, I know,” Deaton had said, “trust me, we all know.”

“Derek doesn’t know.”

“Then you should tell him.”

“I’m afraid to,” Stiles had confessed.

“Stiles, this isn’t a coincidence,” Deaton had commented. “Your Spark and your connection to Derek are linked. The fact that you are feeling sick, is part of the process. You need to be with him, just as he needs to be with you. The only reason why a Spark resurfaces at this age, is because you found the person you need to be with for the rest of your life. In your case, without a doubt: Derek.”

“How can you tell?” Stiles had asked. “You haven’t seen us together for a long time. Who says I haven’t found anyone here?”

“You’ve been in love for more than three years,” Deaton had smiled. “It was obvious. Distance doesn’t put a stop to that, Stiles. Even from this distance, by the way, I can feel your Spark. You’re very strong and you can be very powerful, which also makes you dangerous if you don’t watch and guide it. Your Spark is linked to your emotions. If you’re feeling off, you’ll be very sick. If you’re feeling happy, you could rule the world. This is not easy, but I can help you, if you want me to do so.”

“I do need your help,” Stiles had commented.

“Good,” Deaton had reacted relieved. “But first things first: When you get home, talk to Derek first. You need to tell him and I can reassure you that you will not be disappointed.”

Stiles had hung up, wavering over his thoughts, until he picked up the phone and called Scott. Then he talked to Lydia. And then to his dad. All of them told him he would be doing the right thing, putting this out in the open. All of them had been right.

“I wonder what the others will say about us,” Derek mused, his hand still curled around Stiles’. “I can’t believe my luck, Stiles. I keep on telling myself I’m dreaming.”

“You’re not,” Stiles smiled, “neither am I.”

The younger man felt better, as if he was pulling energy from Derek’s care, love and physical form. The sickness he had been feeling for weeks now, had evaporated. Derek was here for him, they were together and they would be just fine.

He turned to the werewolf to see a clot of chocolate in his beard. Laughing, Stiles turned towards him and wiped his finger over chin. When his fingertip brushed over it and then ended up in Stiles’ mouth, tasting the flavor of Derek with it, the werewolf groaned.

“I swear to god that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he grunted.

“Yeah well, we’re not going there yet,” Stiles commented with an evil grin on his face. “We need to talk to my dad first, and to your mom. And to the pack. And to the entire world. Oh god, I just want to shout it out and tell them all you’re mine.”

“And you’re mine,” Derek smiled, kissing Stiles gently as he cupped his cheek. “I could say this ten times per day, Stiles: I love you. I love you. I can’t believe that you love me back. You, the smartest person I know in the world; the glue that keeps us together. I love you.”

Stiles literally glowed under Derek’s attention, feeling it engulf him like flames would. His Spark bloomed and blossomed, making him the happiest man in the world. This was what he had come back for: This feeling of belonging, of home, of happiness. He was so, so happy, after he had been so down before. It felt as if he had just conquered the world.

As they crossed the street, Stiles noticed the woman, wearing a black overcoat, standing across the street. The hood was tucked over her eyes and face, but he could tell she was looking directly at them. There was something about the way she stared at them. Then he spotted the white can in her hands. She couldn't be staring at them. She was blind.

Stiles shook his head slightly and wondered if he saw ghosts. He was sure he had seen her before. She seemed so familiar to him. But she turned and slowly walked away from them, using the cane to make her way down the street.

“Stiles?” Derek grabbed his sleeve and waited patiently until he looked at him, "what's wrong? Is everything okay?"

"I’m fine," he said turning his back to the woman across the street, "everything's  just fine."

Derek smiled. “Let’s go then.”

Across the street, the blind woman turned around in her tracks and followed them from a distance. She knew exactly which pace to take and where to walk to make sure they didn't spot her. And she also knew her time had come. Finally, the day of revenge had arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter ... well, it'll all go to hell. (or what did you expect? :))  
> Thanks for leaving a comment or a kudos! That would be awesome


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things go very, very wrong ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for your comments and kudos!   
> Things go very wrong right now ... hope you'll enjoy

**Chapter Four**

All things said and done, Derek Hale was pretty good at foreseeing bad things coming their way. He had developed a sixth sense for it, as if he knew that something was up before it even happened.

Today was an exception to that rule. He might blame it afterwards on the distraction that was Stiles. On what Stiles had told him about his love, about the way his Spark would react to his emotions. Or, he might blame it on himself, because he was finally happy too and let his guard down.

Derek didn’t move an inch when it happened. Perhaps he didn't feel it coming, or maybe he just ignored it and didn't listen to that extra sense that made him so special. He had no idea of what was happening, before it hit him full in the face, before he heard the shouts coming from across the street, and the warning that was pointed, not at him but at the man next to him.

He didn't see it coming when they reached Stiles’ jeep and got in. He didn't know he was heading straight for disaster when they took off, Stiles behind the wheel. Both of them didn’t know, until it was too late. Derek was the happiest man on Earth when he got in and laughingly commented on Stiles’ wreck, which Stiles borrowed from Scott again, which was their unspoken rule. Whenever he was in town, Roscoe became Stiles’ means of transport again. Whenever he was gone, Scott drove it around. Derek had no idea of knowing that this jeep would turn into a disaster area pretty soon.

Stiles was the happiest man in the world when he started up his beloved jeep, gazing at the man sitting next to him, wondering what had just happened. He felt happily lazy and quite comfortable and had a grin on his face that made Derek smile.

“Stop thinking so much, Stilinski.”

“You make me think, Hale,” Stiles commented.

“Oh? What about?”

“What you’re wearing underneath those tight jeans of yours.”

“Oh god,” Derek grunted. “Please don’t go that way just yet, or I’ll be facing your dad in very uncomfortable circumstances.”

“You already talked to dad before; maybe we should postpone the ‘real’ chat for later?” Stiles hinted.

“You’ve got a dirty mind, Stiles, never thought you had it in you.”

Stiles roared with laughter at that, wanting to tell Derek about the many times he spent in the shower, thinking of Derek. No need to paint a picture there.

“Did you mean what you said about Quantico?” Stiles asked, steering the jeep out of the parking lot. “Even if it means leaving the pack behind?”

“Every word. I don't care what my future is like, Stiles, I just want it to be with you in it,” Derek smiled.

Stiles flushed at that, not knowing what to say. Steering the car onto the road, he stopped in his tracks suddenly, staring at the blind woman across the street, dressed in her black coat. There was something about her that just startled him. He couldn't figure out who she was. Yet, what he saw of her hidden face, brought back something so familiar he couldn’t place. He knew he had seen her before. Despite the black coat, the white cane and the eyes he couldn't see, he had seen her. Now it was just a matter of piecing it together.

Stiles shrugged and brushed it off as he continued his way, down Beacon Hills’ main road.

It wasn't as if they were in danger when it happened. They weren't battling some supernatural force or a group of hunters. It wasn't as if someone had inflicted something on them, or wanted them out of the way for trying to stop an event from happening.

They were just heading home. Nowhere special to go, nothing in particular to do. Just a simple case of driving home after a heart-to-heart in which they confessed their love for one another. Going home to tell the families and pack what they finally figured out.

Nothing should have gone wrong.

But the woman across the street caught Stiles’ attention. She was watching them with blind eyes as they drove off. He could see her in his rearview mirror when she took off the hood. He could feel her dead eyes pierce through his eyes, soul and mind and it made him uncomfortable. She simply walked there, using that white cane of hers as she did. But she wasn’t normal.

Derek was typing away on his phone and didn’t pay attention. He didn’t see Stiles growing more nervous by the second. Stiles drove slowly, avoiding the traffic before he mingled with the commuters. He was going slowly when the car reached the end of the street and he followed the curve leading into the next road before he picked up a bit of speed, before slowing down at the crossroads. The lights switched to green and Stiles picked up speed again.

She was there all of a sudden, simply standing across the street in front of him. Stiles couldn't even gather his thoughts to find out how she had gotten there. It was simply the vision of hers that seemed to blind him momentarily. She connected with him; was in his mind's eye as he was in hers. He pushed the gas pedal without wanting to. He moved on, staring at the truck that was bound for them. The driver had pushed his gas pedal too, even if he was supposed to wait. He was heading straight for them.

Stiles knew then what was going to happen. He knew it was inevitable and it would change them forever. He screamed Derek’s name while he frantically tried to push his breaks, only to find they didn’t work anymore.

***

The truck driver was hurrying to get home. Experienced as he was, he drove as if he owned the world. He saw the blue jeep that approached him from the left hand side and slowed down, stopping at the crossroads with lights given access to it. After a quick text to his wife, the man waited patiently, shocked when suddenly his gas pedal was pushed in by an unseen force.

The man shouted and pushed the break, but it didn’t help. The truck skirted forward, tires screeching over the concrete when the truck made his way forward. The driver saw the jeep doing the same, but he knew that the driver was in his right to do so, as his lights were switched to green.

He shouted when he frantically tried to stop the truck from moving, but there was nothing he could do. He was trapped inside a cage and knew he was going to die, when the truck moved even faster.

For a brief moment, the eyes of the two drivers found each other. Then the passenger stared at him too. The truck driver knew that the man would not stand a chance. The crash would kill them all. And then it was simply there, jamming itself into the metal of the jeep, hitting the passenger side.

It was the last thing the truck driver saw.

***

Stiles remembered Derek’s laughter about a joke Isaac had sent him, ending up in a desperate scream as he saw the vehicle approach them with full force. The truck driver’s startled eyes would never be forgotten either.

Stiles would always remember how Derek screamed his name and his hand seemed to want to reach for the steering wheel, but ended up somewhere on his lap as the truck approached them. Stiles pushed the gas hard and pulled with a vengeance at the steering wheel, attempting to escape its killing path. But the truck kept on coming and there was nowhere to go.

Stiles heard a voice shout only to realize it was his own.

“Fuck!"” Stiles shouted as he pushed the gas even harder to escape the oncoming truck, but it was already too late. Derek’s laughter still echoed in his ears like the ringing of a bell. Stiles loved the sound of it, but the screams were ten times worse and deafening. He saw the pale and distraught face of the werewolf from the corner of his eyes.

Derek turned, frightened, knowing he would be the one smashed first by the truck. He was on the passenger's seat, and he didn't have a way out of the vehicle. Werewolves can heal fast, but not when death claims them first. They both knew the chances of coming out of this alive, were pretty slim.

And then the truck hit the car at high speed, pushing them the other side of the road, into the path of oncoming traffic. Everything turned into one big pile of blood, glass, screams, confusion, the screeching of brakes, the jamming of metal against metal, and Derek’s startled cry as he turned into one bleeding mess. His head hit the glass hard; after that, he became quiet.

Glass was shattering all over them, while the jeep turned into a wreck. Stiles could taste his own blood in the corner of his mouth as he hang on for dear life, realizing he had been through this before, when Jordan flipped the jeep and Theo and Derek dug him out before it blew up. The jeep hadn’t blown up after all, thanks to their quick thinking of using the fire extinguishers. Stiles still had vivid memories of the way Derek had cradled him into his arms afterwards and practically carried him to the hospital to have him checked out.

Back then, Stiles had been trapped, believing he would die for sure; but he had known Derek would be there to save him. This time, they were both trapped inside the metal cage and there would be no escaping it.

The next thing Stiles knew, the car seemed to be flying through the air, shoved backwards so violently they couldn't do anything but go through its tumbling, until it landed on its wheels, and then tumbled again, eventually landing on its roof with a loud smash. At least they wore their seatbelts, Stiles couldn’t help but think as he went through the motions.

Stiles didn’t pass out at first; that was the first thing he realized. But that didn’t mean he was doing fine. He felt a terrible pain in his wrist as, his hand and arm slammed against the door frame, followed by the snapping of bones inside of his chest as his body impacted full force with the steering wheel, jammed into him by the force of the wreck.

The car had no airbags.  

Stiles reached for Derek, trying to grip his hand, but he didn’t get a response. By the time the werewolf’s head hit the side window, he was out of it, his head tilting as if he were a rag doll.

“Derek,” Stiles groaned, trying to get him to respond. “Derek, wake up.”

He felt for the man’s throat, praying he would find a heartbeat, which he didn’t.

“Oh god, Derek … Derek, wake up!” Stiles felt a sharp pain in his chest, not just caused by the broken ribs threatening his lungs, but by an emotional breaking of the bond. Sickness returned in full force and he knew he would die if Derek died too.

“Derek … Derek!”

Outside the vehicle, people started to run towards them. Stiles knew he didn’t have much time. He allowed the Spark inside of him take charge and closed his eyes, placing his healthy hand on the man’s chest while he was still trapped beneath the seatbelt and forced his power into him once, twice, three times.

It took all of his strength to focus on getting Derek to breathe again. Stiles knew he would not be able to stay awake. He was too hurt; too damaged. One last push into Derek’s chest, made the world fade to black. The next thing Stiles knew, Derek coughed and opened his eyes. His hand immediately clutched his face, screaming out.

“Stiles, Stiles, Stiles, my eyes ... there’s something wrong with my eyes.”

After that, the world turned black.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things only get worse ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments and kudos! Very, very much appreciated. It shows that you care.  
> Have a great day!

**Chapter Five**

Something was very wrong. Stiles opened his eyes to complete silence. Shocked, he looked around, to see he was still trapped inside his jeep, still flipped on its top. Derek sat completely still next to him, head resting forward.

Outside the car, the world had come to a standstill. People stood unmoving, as if they had been stopped in their tracks. As if the world itself had come to a stop, except for the one woman who stood beside the car.

Stiles fought to free himself, but he couldn’t move at all. All he saw, was the woman’s face, which was no longer covered with the black hood framing her features before.

Stiles could see her dead eyes clearly now. Her irises were gone; both her eyes were completely white. It scared him. She just stood there and stared back at him and then she smiled. Stiles blinked his eyes, trying to focus on reality, but it was hard. He was so tired, he just wanted to fall right back into unconsciousness and sleep for a long time. This had to be a dream; all of it. He couldn’t be here. He was back in Quantico, sleeping in his bed. Right?

Wrong. A horrible ache shot through his body, reminding him he was in trouble. Something was terribly wrong. Stiles couldn't quite put a finger on it, but he could feel it as he lay inside the jeep, his body trapped upside down between the console and the seat. He ached all over, yet felt numb at the same time.

He shifted and turned his head aside, stretching his hand. An enormous pain shot through his wrist as he did, forgetting for one moment he had broken it. He didn’t care. He looked aside to find Derek, seeing his face all bloody and messed up without healing.

“Derek, open your eyes,” Stiles urged. “Please, Derek.”

He remembered shooting some of his Spark into Derek’s chest, upstarting his heart again. Derek had died. He had died! Like any normal human, he had died.

Derek coughed, spraying blood over his hands. He opened his eyes and turned his face towards Stiles. And then he saw it: Derek’s eyes. Something strange was happening to them. Derek’s eyes stared into Stiles’, his pupils clearly visible. There was blood in them; and then, Derek’s pupils seemed to be vanishing from their sockets, until they turned completely white.

Derek heard silent laughter beside him. He turned his head again, shifting himself so that he didn't hurt himself any further. The woman knelt down beside him and blinked her eyes. They changed color while Stiles watched. The young man blinked his lids again, expecting this to be some sort of nightmare. He had to be dreaming!

The woman just smiled and then she had Derek's eyes. He would know those anywhere, everywhere. She had taken Derek's eyes!

It all came back to him then, when he saw her with normal eyes. Stiles groaned, stretching his good hand out to touch her. “You're her. Your name, I know your name.”

“You should know me," she said, touching his face gently, "you were the last thing I saw before your father blinded me."

"Lisa.”

The woman smiled and leaned forward, kissing him slightly on the cheek. Stiles could see her eyes clearly now. They were lovely, like Derek’s. The woman got on her feet and walked away, leaving both men trapped inside the vehicle. Stiles passed out again with her name on his lips, and he remembered.

***

Noah Stilinski had always been a man of authority. Ever since he was a child, his father told him he would grow up to become a leader. Things hadn't quite turned out that way. Noah did become deputy and then later on Sheriff, but he wasn’t the powerful politician his father expected him to become.

Noah did have some ambitions, but he didn’t pursue them when life handed out its largest blow. Claudia’s diagnosis hit him hard. He had loved the woman deeply, up until the point her illness and loss nearly drove him crazy. There he was: a man with a hyperactive child that needed constant attention; a child that was not easy to begin with. A child his wife tried to strangle.

He felt guilty over so many things, but seeing his wife gripping his son in an attempt to suffocate him, he could and would never forget. Stiles didn’t remember at all. He had been rescued on time and somehow blocked the whole event from his mind, but Noah never did.

After Claudia’s death, booze became the man’s salvation. He hated himself for it, but he just couldn’t cope with life itself, let alone the child he was supposed to raise. It took him years to get rid of the devil inside of him. He managed to do so with Melissa’s and Nathalie’s help, who wouldn’t let go of him.

They reminded him that Stiles needed him and that his child was a good kid, who needed his help and guidance. When Stiles turned twelve, Noah completed his therapy and was one year off the bottle. They celebrated by going on and having pizza at their favorite pizza place.

It felt amazing to be there with his son, celebrating the start of a new life. He had been able to conceal a lot of his problems, but Stiles had known. In fact, he had sometimes taken the blunt of it too, for which Noah was also embarrassed. He had a lot of making up to do and he would. They were becoming friends now, companions and a real father and son. He knew Stiles adores him, just like he adored the kid. He wouldn’t change him for the world.

When they finished their pizzas, Stiles looked at his dad with adoration in his eyes.

“I love you, dad.”

“I love you so much too, kiddo,” Noah had replied, hugging his son. It was the best birthday ever.

It was late in the evening when they left the town center to return home. It was there that Noah received the call from one of his deputies, telling him there was report from wolves at the preserve and a woman had called it in, horrified that the animals might reach her home and slaughter them all.

Believing the woman was wrong since there were no wolves left in California, Noah decided to take a detour and drive up to the preserve to quickly check it out. In the dark, Stiles had leaned back against his seat, happily content and used to his father taking quick detours.

In silence, they listened to the radio, Noah humming quietly along with a song he liked. They felt as if they were alone in the world for a moment, and he was happy sharing this with his son. The next thing he knew, Stiles cried out, when Noah didn’t even notice anything was wrong.

"Dad, watch out!"

Noah Stilinski saw something run in front of his lights. Then it hit the vehicle hard, rolled over it and tumbled over the vehicle, to end up on the ground behind them. Noah heard his son scream, his voice hoarse and strange. He looked aside. Fox was shivering in the front passenger seat, completely in shock.

Noah removed his jacket and placed it over Stiles’ shaking form, before slipping out of the car. He must have hit an animal, he thought. It had to have been an animal. It couldn’t have been a human being.

Then the sheriff saw it: The strange pile of clothes and flesh and bone behind his vehicle, lying in the middle of the dark road. He got out with trembling legs, believing he had just killed someone. They were alone on the road. The woman lay face down on the ground; one arm twisted underneath her; and the other one above her head, fingers digging in the dirt.

 _I killed her_. It was the only thing going through his mind as he stared down at her. It was one of the worst moments of Noah Stilinski’s life.

A car stopped behind them. Someone else was suddenly beside him, pushing Noah away from her, but not before he got a good look at her. Her blonde hair was covered with blood. Her slim body seemed broken and battered. How could anyone survive a blow like this?

"I'm a doctor," the man next to him said. "Step aside."

The sheriff recognized him as a colleague of Melissa’s and gratefully did as the man said, trying to get a grip on things. He reached for the radio and called in help, forcing himself to stay calm. The woman had ran in front of his car just like that; there was nothing he could do about it. He knew that, but it still hurt.

He caught a glimpse of Stiles’ distressed face, remembering how the child had screamed and warned him. If it weren’t for his son, they would be dead. He had managed to control the vehicle, instead of swerving it down the road. He knew Stiles had seen it happen more clearly than he did. His son had been the one looking straight into the woman's eyes before she hit the vehicle and then the pavement.

Noah walked up to his son's side of the car and saw him just sitting there. He had no tears in his eyes nor was there any sign of distress. He had just paled and seemed to have seen a ghost. Bill understood.

"Stiles, are you okay?"

The child nodded his head and then turned towards his father, "Did you kill her, dad?”

Noah Stilinski felt like a jackhammer hit his head hard. "No," he said, clenching his teeth, "I didn't."

The boy nodded again and said, "I want to see her."

Then he simply got out of the car and stepped towards her, leaning over her. Bill watched him as his hand touched the woman's face gently, pulling away the blonde hairs. His gesture was so gentle Bill held his breath. His son was so sensitive. So in shock.

Noah spoke softly with the doctor that kept the woman alive until the ambulance arrived. The man was asking the boy questions, sharing a glance with the sheriff now and then. It was clear to the sheriff that his son was in deep shock. He trembled and looked extremely pale.

Sirens approached. Suddenly, they were surrounded by a crowd, but Stiles didn't seem to notice. Noah’s deputies were asking him how it happened. He told them the truth: That she had ran in front of his car and he couldn’t avoid her. No, he hadn't been drinking. No, he hadn't been speeding. It just happened. He took the required tests, which confirmed he was telling the truth. Stiles confirmed the same story to Tara, who took care of him.

It seemed to take forever before the unknown young woman, no older than eighteen or nineteen, was moved into the ambulance and the EMT's were treating her, trying to keep her alive until they reached the Beacon Hills hospital. She would survive. Or at least that's what they expected. But her eyesight appeared to be damaged and her insides seemed one bloody mess. She needed extensive surgery.

Noah Stilinski sighed and rubbed his eyes before returning to his battered vehicle.  His colleagues would be expecting him at the office for a full statement, but that was merely a formality. He wanted to know why that woman was there in the dark in the first place and who she was.

The EMT’s decided to take Stiles to the hospital too, as the child was in a deep state of shock. Stilinski gave his car keys to one of his deputies and slipped into the second ambulance with his son, watching how the EMT’s tried to talk to him and placed two warm blankets over him.

At the ER, Stiles protectively pulled his knees up and placed his arms over them. Noah saw how weak and vulnerable his son was. How he must have experienced his mother’s death again in his mind’s eye right now.

They sedated Stiles and placed him in a private room so he could sleep it off. The next morning, the child awoke with no recollection whatsoever about the events. He thought it was his birthday all over again. He had no idea what happened to have him wind up at the hospital. So, Noah took a radical decision and decided to play pretend. He told Stiles he had fainted and was taken to the hospital as a precaution. He asked the doctors and therapist not to talk about the events.

That night, Noah took his son out for a second birthday dinner, as if nothing had ever happened. As if they had lost one day, as if Stiles hadn’t celebrated his special day yet. He watched his son for signs of recollection, but he didn’t find any.

Noah never saw the girl again. He wanted to visit her and tell her he was sorry for her blindness, but she was taken from the hospital within a day by unknown family members. He tried to find out who she was, but never succeeded in doing so. He was never punished either, as it was a proven accident. But he never forgot about her.

Stiles never remembered what really happened that night. Up until today.

 

 


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles in trouble. Poor guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the many comments and kudos for this story!   
> I am really loving writing Stiles with a certain ability, might do more of those.  
> Thanks again - if you would like to leave a comment, that would be great.  
> on with the show ..

**Chapter Six**

The next thing Stiles knew, he shot awake, to find noise and people surrounding him. There were eyes staring at him in concern as he blinked his eyelids. He was still upside down inside the wreckage of his jeep, held in place by the seatbelt. His legs ached. In fact, everything ached. He couldn’t have been more than a minute inside the vehicle, but it felt like forever.

There were several people outside the vehicle now and he felt trapped and vulnerable in his weak state. It had been two years since something had happened to him; two years of relative peace and quiet, even during his vacations at home. Today, just minutes after he confessed his love for Derek, it had all shot to hell. Why couldn’t the universe go easy on him for once?

Stiles tried to focus on anything but being stuck in here, but he couldn’t go back to the peace of mind he had found in the darkness. He was very much alive and should be thankful; in reality though, he just wanted to sleep it off and forget this had ever happened.

The voices outside the vehicle formed a cacophony of sound; mingled with the sounds of sirens of police vehicles and paramedics from afar. They were still on their way, convincing Stiles that indeed, this had just happened.

Stiles felt tired, drained, exhausted. He remembered what had happened. How his instincts had told him to place his hand on Derek’s chest to bring him back to life. Had he really done that? Had he truly saved Derek by using the Spark that lingered below the surface? Or had that just been a fluke?

Then there was that woman. Where was she now? What had in god’s name had she done to Derek? Or was that a dream too? He couldn’t tell, because Derek’s eyes were closed and he hadn’t reacted since the crash.

In panic, Stiles tried to move, causing a terrible shot of pain through his body. He moaned deeply, almost growled from the pain this move inflicted upon him. Stiles moved his neck and tried to see her, but she wasn't there. They were alone and she was gone.

"He's awake," he heard someone to his left say, and then several men were pulling at the metal, trapping them from the outside world. "Hey kid, can you hear me?"

Stiles nodded quietly and cleared his throat, trying to find the correct words, "My friend’s eyes are badly damaged. Please get him out first. Call the sheriff’s department: my dad’s the sheriff.”

“Stiles?” He heard, recognizing a deputy who wasn’t wearing his uniform. Immediately, the man moved forward, grabbing his hand. “I thought I recognized the jeep. You’ll be fine, okay? I’ll call your dad. Help is on the way.”

“Leo?” Stiles reacted, grateful that at least someone he knew was close and could help him from going into a full-blown panic attack right now. “There’s something wrong with Derek’s eyes. He can’t see anymore. Tell the hospital, okay? Call Melissa McCall and let her know that Derek Hale is hurt.”

“I will,” the man vowed, sinking to his knees as he leaned over Stiles to check out Derek, who still remained unmoving where he was. Another man knelt by Derek’s side and touched his throat, sharing a gaze with Leo that didn’t promise much good. After that, he looked at Stiles, seeing the hurt in the younger man’s eyes when he realized Derek was still not awake.

“He’s breathing, son. They’re nearly here, okay?” the man said. “Just hang in there; they’re going to get you out.”

Leo finished his call and returned to the scene, disturbed that he had to warn the Sheriff his son was badly hurt. He literally heard Noah jump into his car and screech off, knowing the man would probably be here quicker than the paramedics. The sheriff’s station was only a block away.

“Stiles, do you hear that?” Leo spoke, referring to the sirens. “We can’t move you for now; it might hurt you worse, but they’ll be here in a minute. Where does it hurt right now, can you tell us that?”

“Chest,” Stiles confessed, “think I might have broken a couple of ribs.” His breathing hitched, confirming his lung was probably nicked by a broken rib. “Broken wrist. My arm, shoulder maybe.”

“Can you feel your legs?”

“Yeah. They hurt, but I think they’re fine. My head hurts a lot too.”

Leo’s Chevy was parked just two yards away from the crash site. He had seen it all happen. He was shocked to see the teenager, correction, young man, he had come to know over the past years, trapped inside the steel metal.

The deputy was off duty but didn’t hesitate to help. Looking at Stiles, he feared that he might be hurt a lot more than they could see at first sight. It didn’t escape him that the teenager had trouble breathing; that every time he did, he seemed to rasp. That lung was definitely nicked and he couldn’t get him out on his own, fearing he might cause a collapsed lung. So, he placed a hand in Stiles’ neck and supported him, counting down the seconds until help arrived.

“Stay with us, Stiles,” he said when he saw the younger man’s eyes droop. “Come on, just a little while longer now.”

“Tired,” Stiles muttered. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay, kid,” Leo spoke gently. “So, weren’t you at Quantico?” he asked, trying to keep Stiles talking.

“Holiday,” Stiles slurred, sounding more off by the second, which startled Leo. He turned towards the man behind him and hissed that they couldn’t leave him in the car like this for much longer.

A man in suit rushed over to them, doctor’s bag in hand. “Let me take a look.”

Gratefully, Leo allowed the doctor to prod and poke Stiles, to identify the injuries and the extent of possible internal damage. The deputy reached for his phone again and called the office for the second time, only to be notified that the sheriff was reaching them right now.

The other man helping Stiles and Derek out as first on the scene, had heard the sickening crash of metal and glass and the screams of the two men as they were hurt badly by its deadly impact. Even with the radio on he had heard that. He would never forget it. And then everything went quiet and time seemed to stand still.

The man had seen an odd-looking woman near the site, kneeling down next to the vehicle. She wore a black cloak that covered most of her face, but she pulled it back at one point to talk to the young man who was named Stiles by the second man on the scene, who turned out to be a deputy.

The woman said something to the driver, but he couldn't make out what and then she got up and left so quickly he couldn't even remember where she went. It didn't really matter. The folks inside the car were the main priority now. He couldn’t care less about strange people right now.

The truck driver was dead, still sitting trapped behind his steering wheel. He died on impact. Leo saw what had happened: the man had ignored the red lights and drove forward, crashing into the old jeep. The men in there never stood a chance to escape the impact. It was a miracle they were still alive, given the state of the jeep they were sitting in.

The doctor spoke to Stiles, who seemed awake and lucid, but spoke with slurred voice and drooped off many times, before returning to the present. The man turned to Leo and said, “We need to get him out of there right now. He needs urgent medical help.”

Then he rushed to the other side and examined Derek too.

Leo stood when four cars arrived at the same time. The first one held the sheriff; the others were filled with deputies. More cars had stopped; EMT’s were approaching rapidly now. The fire department had arrived too, digging out materials to get the two men out. Every second counted now.

The whole street had come to a standstill. All those present witnessed how the sheriff ran to the jeep and basically screamed his son’s name when he saw the state the twenty-year old young man was in.

It broke Leo’s heart.

***

Noah Stilinski was used to quite a bit when it concerned his son. He had seen him hurt, beaten up, hurt again, unconscious and basically knew Stiles wasn’t one to back out of danger. The fact that he would lose his son in a stupid car crash like this with no supernatural tendencies, broke his heart.

He had been so happy when Stiles arrived at the airport. He had picked him up barely three hours ago, seeing a very tired but happy son who hugged his dad fiercely. Since Stilinski had to work, he had planned to drop Stiles off at home, but his son had pleaded with him to drive to the Hale House instead, saying he needed to talk to Derek as soon as possible, which he also mentioned over the phone.

Noah hadn’t said a word, but his eyes spoke books. Stiles was going to have the talk with Derek that he should have had years ago. It made Noah happy that his son had finally seen the light. All he wanted, was for Stiles to be happy. Derek was the one who made him happy.

And now they were trapped here together, stuck between metal. Noah could have wept when he saw his son like that, but he kept it together, knowing Stiles needed his strength right now.

“Dad?” the young man croaked, tears spilling down his face as he recognized his father immediately just by the way he ran towards the car. “Daddy …”

Noah swallowed away the lump down his throat. Stiles hadn’t called him that in ages. Anger surged through him as he stared at the bloody figures of the two younger men. They had told him that the truck driver ran a red light and basically crushed the jeep. He was even angrier because it happened just one block away from the sheriff’s department. Several cars approached the scene now, all of his deputies were eager to help somehow.

 _Stiles would have loved this,_ Noah couldn't help but think as he approached the crashed car and then knelt down by his son. In his mind, he was already considering the possibility of Stiles' death, but by the time he was at the driver's side, he could hear his son’s hoarse voice as he spoke to Leo, one of his deputies, who guided him through the events.

To his shock, Stiles was wide awake and Noah couldn't help but think that was bad thing at this time. If his son was hurt badly and they had to pull him out of the car, he might be going through the worst pain he'd ever experienced.

On the other hand, Noah couldn't help but be grateful for the fact that Stiles was able to talk. Behind Noah, Jordan Parrish appeared. Noah knew Jordan was a good friend and had a calming influence on Stiles. He needed his deputy to keep his son in place while the fire brigade worked to open the jeep.

“Stiles, they’re going to work around you now, okay?” Jordan spoke soothingly, calming Stiles down before he could even react. The young man saw several people with hacksaws and electrical saws around his jeep, preparing to get them out. A fireman knelt down and put a brace around his neck, followed by a safety blanket and an oxygen mask, once the man noticed Stiles could barely breathe by now.

“We’re going to get you out, don’t worry,” the man said, moving goggles over Stiles’ eyes so he wouldn’t get shards of glass into them.

Stiles look aside to see a blanket covering Derek completely. The next thing he knew, they were shattering the windshield to make room for them to be hauled out. The doors were taken off; the metal creaked. Stiles closed his eyes, breathing in the oxygen mask in an attempt not to freak out.

With sadness, Noah realized there was no salvaging the jeep right now. Nothing came out of such a crash unscathed. The state of mind Stiles was in right now, wouldn’t even allow him to think about his beloved jeep right now. With a shock, the sheriff realized his son was off pretty badly.

Noah stared over the collapsed vehicle to the other side and caught a glimpse of Derek, his eyes still closed. By the way they were maneuvering around him, Noah knew the werewolf was hurt badly. And when he heard Stiles beg the people around him to help him first, while Derek was supposed to be healing, the sheriff realized all too well that they could stand to lose Derek.

Then he realized with a shock that Derek was indeed not healing; that he was in very bad shape, but also not able to heal himself right now. Then he knew that he had to call Melissa and warn her they were bringing him in, which could mean they were up for some pretty weird gazes once Derek’s abilities to heal should upstart all of a sudden. He turned to Jordan and whispered to him to call her and let her know, knowing his deputy understood immediately.

If something happened to Derek, Stiles won’t survive. Noah knew that for a fact. By looking at Jordan’s face he knew that the young deputy thought exactly the same thing.

Noah moved forward as soon as he was allowed to and watched how the firemen freed Stiles from his situation. Derek was already hauled out of the vehicle and strapped to a gurney, an oxygen mask over his face. Someone hissed and then shouted to someone else, but Noah didn’t pay attention right now. He was concerned about his son.

Stiles was lifted by four men from the vehicle and then gently placed on a board, where doctors immediately started checking him out. Now that he was out of the vehicle, Stiles breathed even more difficult, trying to move the thing off with his healthy hand. They strapped the broken wrist carefully. The doctor took his vitals, while Noah hovered nearby, yearning for the moment he could hold his son’s hand and tell him he would be okay.

“BP 80 over 50. Irregular heartbeat. Possible collapsed lung. Trauma to the head and possibly neck. He’s delirious.”

Noah realized only then that his son was talking beneath the mask, muttering words that didn’t make any sense. But one word stood out: Lisa. Lisa. Lisa. Lisa. He didn’t understand.

Derek was lifted into an ambulance and taken away with screeching sirens. Jordan hopped into the vehicle to keep him company in case he should wake up. Noah waited until they were ready to move Stiles.

Stiles moaned as they slowly lifted him up and placed him on a gurney. He didn’t say another word, while focusing on controlling the pain. When the gurney was shoved into the ambulance, a sharp pain shot through him. He shouted.

“Stiles, can you hear me?” a man said.

He blinked his eyelids and looked at the man hovering above him in uniform.

“You have a collapsed lung, Stiles. We’re going to fix this at the hospital, okay? But you have to focus on your breathing and try to keep it study. Nod if you hear me.”

Stiles nodded, closed his eyes and let himself be lulled into the darkness by the movement of the vehicle he was in. The pain was too hard to bear and he just wanted to sleep.

“Stiles, stay with us,” the man warned. “Come on, Stiles.”

When the teenager no longer replied, the man sighed deeply and reached for the medical kit. “No time to waste,” he said to his colleague, “his lung is giving out. Prep.”

Noah stared at the two men who cut open Stiles shirt and prepared to push a tube in his lung to help him breathe. Stiles was unconscious and didn’t feel a thing. Noah leaned back with his son’s hand in his own and wondered how a perfectly good afternoon could have gone to hell so easily.

Welcome back to Beacon Hills, he thought bitterly. Welcome back to Hell.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles gets into much more (medical) trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to all who are following this story and commenting/given kudos! This means a lot.  
> thanks thanks thanks thanks!

**Chapter Seven**

“How is he?”

Noah Stilinski looked tired at Stiles’ former high school friends Lydia, Scott and Allison, watching their weary faces as they ran to him from across the hall. It didn’t take a therapist to see how distraught they were when they learned the news.

“He’s still in surgery,” Noah spoke, lifting his hands. “So far, all I know is that he had a collapsed lung, has a concussion and possible trauma to the head, broke his wrist, might have sprained an ankle and definitely has two broken ribs and two cracked ones. They’re working on his lung right now.”

When he told them, Stilinski suddenly realized how bad all of this sounded, but in reality, the doctors had told him that Stiles had been pretty lucky. He could have died easily, given the situation. That jeep was total loss; Stiles and Derek could have been too.

“Will he …?” Scott hesitated, afraid to say it out loud.

“No,” Lydia interrupted Scott. “I don’t feel the need to scream. He’ll be fine.”

Lydia’s words shook Noah to the core. It was only now that he seemed to realize he had been holding his breath for hours, waiting for the good or the bad news. Before anyone could say anything else, the sheriff’s legs shook and he felt he had to sit down now, before he would collapse.

Scott grabbed him by the arm and set him down, asking Lydia to get a can of coke. It was then that the man realized he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, as the day had been pretty busy between work and picking up Stiles from the airport.

“Thanks,” he muttered, when Lydia returned with biscuits and coke, which he slugged down immediately. The doors opened again to show in Isaac, Erika and Boyd. Erika still held her baby girl in her hands, rocking the baby automatically. Jordan Parrish walked over to them too, as well as Melissa, who had just gone to check up on Derek, who still hadn’t awoken. Talia Hale was on her way too with Peter; both had been out grocery shopping when it happened.

“I just went to talk to the medical team who are working on Stiles too,” Melissa told the group. “He’s doing okay, he’s still in surgery but it’s all going perfectly fine. He woke up a couple of times at the ER and when they wheeled him into surgery and he seemed quite lucid. He’ll be fine, Noah.”

“Thank god,” the sheriff sighed, running his hands through his hair. If his son had died today, he would have gone crazy.

“What about Derek?” Allison asked. “Why won’t he wake up?”

“We don’t know yet,” Melissa confessed. “The thing is: Nobody knows about … you know … and they all think it’s perfectly normal for him not to wake up. X-Rays fortunately have shown nothing out of the ordinary, so in case you’ve always wondered what a werewolf looked like from the inside, I can tell you it’s pretty much the same.” She smiled briefly when the others smiled too. “Truth be told though, we don’t know what is going on with Derek. He doesn’t seem to have suffered any trauma to the head, but he’s unresponsive and the bruises and cuts on his body won’t heal. I think you’ll need to contact Deaton.”

“Already did,” Scott said, “he’s on his way.”

“I’ll sneak him in as soon as he’s here,” Melissa promised. “Right now, Stiles is our biggest concern. He unfortunately doesn’t heal that quickly and he’s very hurt. It will take a while for him to recover. Also, there’s something you need to know: There were odd bruises on the palm of his uninjured hand. The same bruises were on Derek’s chest, around the area of his heart.”

“Bruises? What kind of bruises?” Scott asked surprised.

“Like he was electrocuted,” Melissa said, “Only, they were different than that. Like a small current ran through his hands, enough to spark, but not with the force of lightning.”

“Oh god.” Noah placed a hand before his mouth and sighed deeply, realizing where he had heard this before. His face fell when he realized what this meant. Tears sprung in his eyes. “Not again,” he muttered.

“Oh Noah …” The sheriff turned around to find Talia standing behind him, staring at him with the same knowing look in her eyes. She had seen and heard about this too. It shocked her to no avail that this would be happening again. She moved forward and hugged the sheriff. “I wish I could have spared you this.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Scott asked surprised.

“Stiles found his Spark,” Talia said softly. “Finally, he found it and he used it to save Derek’s life, the one man he loves. Stiles sacrificed a small piece of his life without knowing it.” The Alpha werewolf sighed and looked the sheriff in the eye. “I’m so sorry.”

Noah sighed and nodded, thinking about all the times he had seen his wife act so strange, whenever the spark in her had reacted and life itself became so hard to bear. He had seen her use it for the good. And then there was that one time where she had placed her hands on her son’s chest and unwillingly forced all life out of him. Only to push it back in when she became lucid again. Noah knew without a doubt that this was the moment Stiles had inherited his mother’s gift. And curse.

***

Stiles woke in the solitude of a private hospital room, struggling to gather his thoughts. Eyes closed, he listened to the silence inside the room. He felt safe and secure somehow, despite the circumstances he was in. But his gratitude for still being alive didn't last long. Before long, he started to remember what had taken place and exactly why he was here.

He winced as he tried to move, feeling an enormous pressure pushing against his chest. One touch with his good hand towards his chest revealed the tube that had been inserted into his lung. Nauseated, he tried to control his panic, only to take deep and heavy breaths instead, making him gasp.

He felt like crap, as if a ton of bricks had been dropped on top of him. His face was flushed; his hair sticky with sweat. He could barely keep his eyes open. Immediately he heard noises in the room as a reaction to his awakening and he opened his eyes quickly, surprised by the fact there was someone inside the room he hadn’t previously noticed.

Automatically he called out for the two people he thought of first. "Dad? Derek?"

But neither were sitting next to him. The seat usually taken by his dad, was occupied by someone else who came into sight as he moved. It was Scott who sat by his side, his best friend whom he hadn’t even seen when he arrived home. He had been too eager to see Derek first, knowing that Scott would understand.

"It's me, Stiles," Scott said, smiling gently when he noticed Stiles was awake and pretty alert.

The werewolf leaned forward and hugged his best friend, whom he hadn’t seen in a couple of months. Thanksgiving weekend, Stiles had spent back at Quantico, while Scott had gone home. He was a busy college student now too, in his third year at UCLA to become a veterinarian. Since he studied in California, it was easier going home for him. He took Stiles’ jeep to do so, knowing his best friend would want to borrow it again during the holidays.

“How are you feeling, man?” he asked troubles. “Feeling okay? No headache or pain?” Scott automatically stretched his hand to draw Stiles’ pain, but didn’t get the chance to do so.

"Where's Derek?" Stiles asked frantically, ignoring Scott’s question about his health.

His best friend already knew he was feeling terribly, no doubt scenting the distress and fever on his body. There was no hiding that. He didn’t want to waste time on going through the motions right now. All that mattered to him, was Derek.

“He’s fine. He’s in another room nearby. Don’t worry about that now, Stiles,” Scott soothed him. “I’ll warn your dad you’re awake. He’s been in and out, but we sent him home a few hours ago to get some rest. The poor man was exhausted. We’ve been taking turns staying with you.”

Stiles barely listened to Scott’s voice. The only thing he knew, was to find Derek and make sure he was alright. Somewhere over the lost periods of time, nightmares haunted him about Derek, staring at him with a haunted, dead look in his eyes.

_“You killed me,” the werewolf had hissed. “You destroyed my heart with your powers.”_

Somehow, Stiles had convinced himself Derek was dead because of him. Because of what he impulsively did. How could he deal with killing the man he loved? He couldn’t face reality … not knowing he was responsible for this. Deep down, he already knew Derek wasn’t okay. If he was, he would have been right here, smiling relieved that Stiles was awake.

Stiles stared at the cast his left wrist and arm were encased in; moving further to the palm of his good, right hand, where he noticed odd bruising, like an old burn healing slowly. Odd, he couldn’t remember how he hurt that hand. Must have happened during the crash, but there was no fire or burning parts of his jeep.

He mentally quickly scanned the other parts of his body, feeling nothing but a very sharp pain in his chest where the tube was still stuck in and a dull headache forming in the back of his head. A cannula underneath his nose still helped him to breathe. Stiles pulled it off his face while Scott was texting his dad. He was eager to get out of bed. Before Scott could stop him, he also plucked the IV from his arm and pushed down hard on the crook of his arm to stop the bleeding.

Swaying dangerously, he tried to ignore the fact he was wearing a flimsy hospital gown and searched the room until he found the chair his clothes were on. Fortunately, it was a fresh set; he remembered a nurse cutting open his T-shirt and sweater. Reaching for it, he tried to figure out how to make it to that chair without toppling over.

“Stiles, what the hell are you doing?” Scott yelled, trying to get his friend to move back onto the bed. “You’ve been unconscious for a day, dude. You’re in no shape to go anywhere, you can barely stand on your feet. You’re very sick, do you realize that? You’re running high fevers, have been doing so since yesterday. They’ve been pushing some pretty heavy antibiotics into you.”

“Why?” Stiles croaked.

“Because you were lucky enough to get out of that jeep alive,” Scott almost barked. “Your lung has suffered quite a bit under the crash; you have an infection, developed because it was punctured. You also have pneumonia. Do you understand me, Stiles?”

Stiles let go of his arm and barely noticed that blood dripped onto his hospital gown and the floor. He just couldn’t stop the bleeding, but didn’t care. He wavered, clutching his broken wrist against his chest. The other hand waved around the room. It was clear to Scott that he didn’t even see him when he pushed him aside and headed for his clothes.

“I need to see Derek,” Stiles slurred.

His voice sounded off. Scott instantly became alert when he saw Stiles’ feverish eyes and realized he was still very sick. The antibiotics still weren’t helping, he realized. The doctor had warned them that Stiles might wake up very confused, but it was a long time since Scott had seen him like this.

Scott reached for the alarm button before forcing Stiles to sit back down on the bed. Stiles was pretty strong, despite his fever. Heat radiated from his body. In fact, Scott had only seen him like this once: when he was so sick, he became delirious. Disturbed, the werewolf pushed the button a second time, but Stiles was unstoppable and pushed him aside.

“Where is he?” Stiles repeated, swaying on his feet. “Gotta see him, Scotty.”

“If you calm down, I’ll take you, okay?” Scott promised. “But not like this. You’re very sick, Stiles. You’ve been through the wringer.”

The werewolf used a minimum of force to calm Stiles down, but what happened next, he hadn’t expected. Stiles’ good hand pushed at Scott, touching his chest briefly, while shooting some sort of power surge through him.

Scott hissed when a burn seemed to go right through his clothes, hitting him hard in the chest. He staggered backwards, shocked about what had just happened. The werewolf stared at his clothes, seeing a black burn go straight through them, until it reached bare skin. Stiles hissed too, clutching his good hand against his chest as if it hurt. He sunk to his knees, cradling into himself when his strength gave out. He slumped to the ground, sliding on his side, panting as he held both hands against his chest.

Scott knew his best friend was in major trouble and felt powerless. Helpless.


End file.
